


An Interlude

by thedisgruntledone



Series: Unfair Exchange [8]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedisgruntledone/pseuds/thedisgruntledone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will thinks about his and Hannibal's changing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear, I'm sorry. Feel free to ignore this one - it's really just a little something to get me back into writing. I have no excuses. 
> 
> Thank you, though, for all the comments and kudos for the last bit - hopefully something longer will be soon in coming.

Will watched his face in the mirror, examining it closely, looking for changes. The melodramatic part of him thought that there must be a difference, must be some noticeable change to his face, something that would tell the world what he was becoming. The rest of him knew better. Whatever he was doing to himself, it would never show on his face. It was his soul that he was destroying, and a part of him didn’t mind, was even eager for it. He’d tried shoving that part of himself down, and it kept resurfacing, brought there over and over as he insinuated himself even closer to one Hannibal Lecter, all in the name of bringing him down once and for all. If only he weren’t bringing himself down as well.

Will pulled the collar of his shirt down, exposing a large suck mark just below his collarbone. He ran the fingers of his other hand over it lightly, then pressed down, hissing in mingled pain and pleasure as he did so. The eyes in the mirror fluttered slightly, and his legs widened as blood began to gather between them.

Below his shirt, his pants, he was covered in bruises. Bite marks, handprints, hickeys – they riddled his body, each one placed there by a man who had given up all pretense of restraint. Things had changed between them.  Now when Will went to Hannibal, it was with the understanding that it was something they both wanted, something they both craved – there were no more excuses, neither of them hid behind the lie that what they were doing was about anything but each other. And like a dam had broken, Will found himself at Hannibal’s door more and more often – both when he had been summoned and of his own volition. He liked it, there was no denying that, and he left as many marks as he received, though he doubted Hannibal lacked the self-control to keep from touching them, touching himself, when they were unable to meet.

Will had no such control. Still pressing on the bruise, he stumbled out of the bathroom, away from the mirror and to his bed, splaying his legs wide as he slid one hand under his loose sweats to wrap around his length, both ashamed and aroused by his utter lack of control. Hannibal hadn’t been wrong, Will needed what he was so willing to provide – his body craved it, tripped on the drugging release that Hannibal offered him over and over, both with the man and without him, his memory offering perfect recall of whatever encounter he wished. He knew that he was playing a dangerous game, that the more he gave in to the way Hannibal could make him feel the less likely it was that he would succeed in his quest to beat him at his own game and see him behind the bars of a jail cell. He knew this, warned himself of it every time, and gave in anyway.

His hand moved faster; he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, and behind his lids, the Wendigo smiled. 


End file.
